


The Breaking Point

by Chichirinoda



Series: Chain Arc [6]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-15
Updated: 2009-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giriko wants something from Mifune, and as far as he's concerned, he's going to get it whether Mifune likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Breaking Point

Both of them slept on the plane, which arrived in the wee hours of the morning at the nearest city to Baba Yaga's castle. It wasn't a far distance from the gorge where the castle sat, though separated from it by all-but-impenetrable jungle. A cab took them back, and Mifune took his leave of Giriko at the junction in the hall, mumbling something about training. Giriko merely yawned and gave him permission to go without question.

When he reached his room, however, he grabbed a satchel and immediately began to pack, blessing the fact that Bekko wasn't there. He took almost nothing for himself, just a single change of clothes and a few personal items he couldn't bear to part with. The simple reality was that he owned little and cared hardly at all about most of it.

He stuffed it to bursting with Angela's belongings, however. Then he slung it and both of his sword cases over his back, the straps of the cases crossing diagonally over his chest so they stuck out at either side and balanced him. His good sword he strapped to his hip, and he shoved Angela's broom through his belt as well.

Then he roused the girl, dressing the sleepy child without much assistance from her. She mumbled a few questions, which he answered tersely.

"We need to go, Angela-sama. This place isn't safe for you anymore. We're going to a safe place," he murmured, placing her hat on her head and then wrapping her securely in a blanket, covering her up so she would look like a bundle of some kind. He finished by swinging her up into his arms.

"Okay," she whispered, wrapping her small arms around his neck, and then immediately falling into a doze once again. He winced, still sore from the cut encircling his throat, but didn't try to move her.

It was so early that he didn't meet anyone on the way out. Arachne didn't post guards at the entrance, since her spiders served as sufficient lookout for any intruders who might approach the castle. He only hoped that she was asleep, and that as one of her 'inner circle' - no matter how inaccurate that term might be in reality - his departure would be assumed to be on official business when the watchmen observed him go by on their screens.

Grimly, he climbed the switchback path and plunged into the jungle, following the road back towards town.

* * *

He watched the sunrise from the air, scarcely able to believe that he'd made it this far. The sun shone on the clouds and Angela glued her face to the thick-glassed window of the airplane, exclaiming at the sight.

He knew that if their departure from the castle hadn't been noticed, they were doing very well. It would be more than fifteen hours before Giriko would notice he was late to meet him, and it was likely that the weapon wouldn't go looking for him for some time after that. When Mifune had been accosted by the rapists, Giriko had remained in his room for an hour, waiting for him. How long would it have been before he actually went searching? Another hour? Two?

How late would it be before Giriko even realized they were gone? And even if he realized right away that they had left the castle, it would take still more time to discover where he had gone, if they even could trace the tickets he had purchased with cash.

He hoped fervently that the place he had decided to go would be the last place they would expect him to disappear to. And hopefully, even if they _did_ realize where he'd gone, Giriko wouldn't try to follow him.

Even with all of these reassuring thoughts running through his mind, the longer he was gone from the castle, his apprehension grew. He sat in silence in the seat, counting the minutes, his heart beating wildly with fear at every shift of the chain against his skin. At any moment, he was convinced that he would feel it tighten or writhe with rage.

There was no airport in the place where Mifune wanted to go, and they had to walk from a nearby town. Thankfully it was evening by the time they managed to retrieve their checked baggage - which had received more than a few raised eyebrows and required Mifune to show the special certificates he had which allowed him to transport weapons across borders.

But they had to walk, and as the sun sank in its stupor over the horizon, the wind kicked up and a chill set in. Mifune had to carry Angela again, his arms wrapped tightly around her and the blanket covering her face. The wind blew dust and grit into his eyes and he had to squint and grit his teeth as he stumbled forward, the weight of all of their possessions dragging on his abused back and setting it afire.

They reached Death City at midnight, a bloodily grinning moon high overhead, gazing down at them with undisguised amusement.

Mifune walked down the cobbled street, Angela walking beside him quietly. He thought longingly of the home they had once shared, but of course it was hundreds of miles away, in New York City. Even if it were nearby, it wouldn't be a good idea for now. It was too predictable that they would go there, and he was too exhausted to secure it properly.

He stopped at a hotel, and somehow managed to ask for a room. He was so tired he could barely form coherent sentences, but the woman behind the counter looked with pity upon the drooping and overloaded man with his drowsing 'daughter' and gave him a key right away without asking too many questions.

He made it to the room and dropped everything, then locked and dead-bolted the door.

"Mifune, I'm sleepy!" Angela mumbled. "My legs hurt and I'm tired." She had flown on her broom for a while, but he knew she had pushed herself to keep up, even if Mifune had carried her as much as his aching arms could manage.

"Go to sleep, Angela-sama," Mifune told her, pulling his ragged coat off and unbuttoning his shirt.

He paused, glancing at her, as she crawled onto the bed. He didn't want her to see the welts on his back, and finally climbed in beside her fully clothed instead, only toeing off his sandals.

"Mifune?" Angela murmured plaintively after a few moments. "Why did we have to leave? Were bad men going to come for me again?"

Mifune shifted and turned his head, seeing her eyes gleaming slightly as she looked at him, reflecting the moonlight. "No, Angela-sama," he said softly. He couldn't lie. "But this will be a safer place for you. And maybe I'll be able to spend more time with you here."

It was an optimistic statement, but maybe, just maybe, it was true.

He fell asleep minutes later, and if Angela spoke to him again, he didn't hear her.

* * *

Mifune came awake all at once, his heart pounding fearfully in his chest. For a moment he thought the sun had woken him, whose light was streaming in through the window between the curtains and bathing him in a warm glow.

But then the chain around his neck squirmed again, and he sat bolt upright.

Giriko had to know he was gone by now. He had been gone for almost a full day, and he could well imagine the weapon tearing the place apart.

Though he knew Giriko had to be hundreds of miles away, Mifune jumped from the bed with renewed urgency. Angela trotted into the room from the bathroom. She was fairly self-sufficient, and he saw with pleasure that her face was scrubbed pink.

"I'm hungry, Mifune," she announced cheerfully. "Is it breakfast time? You were so sleepy, you slept so late!"

"There's some food in the luggage," he said distractedly. After that one lurch, the chains seemed to have quieted, and now he wondered if he had imagined it. "Please eat that, Angela-sama. We can't go out of the room right now."

Paranoid or not, he didn't want her out of his sight, and there were arrangements he had to make before he could do anything else. It was only because of the late hour that they'd arrived that he hadn't made them last night, but now he should be able to take the next step in his plan.

As Angela found a granola bar and munched it happily while sitting on the bed, Mifune grabbed the phone book from under the phone and flipped through it quickly, coming in a few moments to the entry for Shibusen.

The first number was in a strange format, 42-42-564, and the entry next to it simply read 'Shinigami, private line'.

No, that wasn't going to work. He was in a tenuous position, extremely tenuous, and he didn't have the first clue whether anyone at Shibusen would be sympathetic at all. He knew the reasons why Shibusen had been founded in the first place, and to tell Shinigami _himself_ that he was here with a witch, right in the middle of his city, seemed foolish in the extreme.

His eyes scanned further down, and found the general directory number. With slightly trembling hands, he dialled that number.

A pleasant feminine voice answered. "Shibusen Technical School, general directory. How may I direct your call?"

Immediately, Mifune's mind went blank. "Er..."

"Can I help you?" the perky woman prompted after a few moments during which Mifune cudgelled his brain.

But he had to say something. "I need to talk to...to the ninja. He's a meister there."

"We have quite a few ninja-style meisters here, sir. Do you have a name?" The woman sounded very kind, as if she thought Mifune was probably quite an idiot.

He _felt_ like an idiot. He knew whom he wanted to talk to - that man he had fought on Lost Island. The one who had all but offered him a job; the one who had seen right through Mifune to the good man within. _He_ would at least give him a chance to talk, Mifune was sure.

But he didn't know his _name_.

"He...he's a ninja," he said helplessly. "His weapon is a big sniper cannon."

The woman seemed to think about that for a moment. "Well, the weapon sounds a little like Deathscythe Azusa-sama, but she doesn't have a regular wielder, sir. Are you sure you have the description right?"

In his distress, it didn't occur to Mifune to try to describe him, that his blue skin and tattoos would be distinctive. He was struggling for a name.

Then inspiration struck. There _was_ someone in Shibusen whose name he knew.

"Then can I talk to Black Star?" he asked. "He's a student there."

"Oh, of course, sir," the woman said brightly. "Just a moment, please. I'll have him paged to a public phone."

There was a click and Mifune heard blandly cheerful music issue from the receiver. He let out a breath, though his heart was still pounding, and he paced at the end of the cord. His chains were definitely squirming, and he couldn't calm down so long as he knew how livid Giriko must be, so long as the evidence of his rage was rippling around his neck and wrists.

Suddenly the music stopped and a familiar voice assaulted him. " _YAHOO_ , hello? You have reached Black Star! The one you couldn't wait to talk to!"

"Black Star," Mifune said, struggling to keep his voice level. "It's...it's Mifune."

The sound of his voice apparently startled the boy. "Mifune? _Samurai-man_? Why the hell are you calling me?"

Mifune drew a breath and let it out. "Black Star, I need to talk to someone important at the school. Who's in charge - I mean, other than Shinigami."

"Other than Shinigami-danna?" Black Star echoed, sounding perplexed. "Well, I guess that would be Deathscythe Spirit-sama... Maka's dad."

Mifune had no clue who Maka was and didn't care. "Okay, can you please do a favour for me, and go get him? I need to talk to him, right away."

"Yeah, okay," Black Star said agreeably. "You can count on me!" Mifune relaxed slightly, but apparently Black Star wasn't ready to leave yet. "Hey Mifune?" The boy sounded slightly hesitant.

"Yes?"

"You...sound a bit different. You okay?"

Mifune closed his eyes tightly. "I'm fine, thank you," he said. "Please, I really need to speak to Spirit-sama, very urgently."

"Okay!" Black Star seemed satisfied by his answer. Perhaps he thought Mifune was just in a great hurry. "Hang on, I'll go find him!"

And suddenly there was a great clatter, and he was gone. There was no hold music this time, and in fact from the muffled noises he could hear - indistinct voices, footsteps - he was pretty sure Black Star had literally just dropped the receiver and run off.

He looked up. "Angela-sama, would you please go play in the bathroom?"

She blinked at him for a moment, then nodded obediently. "Okay, Mifune!" Grabbing her newt and a couple of dolls, she scurried into the bathroom and closed the door. Hopefully now she wouldn't overhear his conversation, just in case it went into delicate territory.

Mifune began pacing again as he waited, but since he had no distractions his chains filled his attention. Shudder after shudder ran through them. How angry was Giriko? Had he left the castle to come after him yet? How much longer did he have to bargain with Shibusen for Angela's safety?

When a voice suddenly sounded clearly in his ear, he almost dropped the phone in shock.

"Hello?" Spirit sounded curious, and not unfriendly.

Mifune took a moment to steady himself. "Hello, sir," he said, the word slipping out without his intending to. "Is this Deathscythe Spirit-sama?"

"That's me, who's this?"

"My name is Mifune," he said. "I doubt you've heard of me, but I'm...I work for Arachne."

There was a short pause. When Spirit spoke again, his voice was extremely chilly and all traces of friendliness had disappeared. "What do you want?"

"I..." Mifune hesitated, then forced the words past numb lips. "I want to surrender."

Another pause, this one with a more startled character. "Excuse me?"

 _Breathe._ "I want to surrender," he said, his voice strengthening. "I'll tell you absolutely everything I know about Arachne - her location, her plans, everything. After that, you can kill me or do whatever you want. I don't care."

There was a sputtering sound coming out of the phone, but he kept talking.

"I just have one condition, and I need your personal guarantee, and the personal guarantee of the man I fought on Lost Island, that it'll be honoured. He'll remember me, though I don't know his name. He was a ninja, with a large sniper cannon." Finally Mifune fell silent, his heart pounding.

"That'll be Sid. What...what condition?" Spirit sounded like he was struggling to sound cold and hard, but his voice was strained.

Sid. His name was Sid. Well, at least now he knew. "I have a witch with me," Mifune said quietly. "Her name is Angela, and she's six. She's no danger to anyone. I want a guarantee that she will not be harmed, and that she'll be cared for, and taught to be a good person and that none of you people will eat her soul - _ever_."

There was an extremely long silence. "You...you're serious."

"Yes." Mifune's heart was pounding so hard it threatened to burst through his ribs. So long as Angela was safe, nothing else mattered. He'd never wanted to work for Arachne anyway, and once he'd discharged his duty, he no longer cared what happened to him at all.

"Give me half an hour to speak to my superiors, but you have my personal guarantee that if your offer is rejected, you will both be allowed to leave the city unharmed," Spirit said quietly. "If there really is a child, anyway. That'll have to be proven."

"If you don't believe me, you can ask Black Star," Mifune said, low.

Spirit hesitated. "All right, I will," he said, with bravado that rang false to Mifune's ears. The man believed him, Mifune could tell, but he was just trying to put on a brave, stern face for an enemy, not wanting to show his hand too soon.

Mifune relaxed.

"Where are you?" Spirit asked. "You're in the city?"

"Yes. I'm at the Reaper Hotel," Mifune said quietly. "Room 134."

"If I come meet you in thirty minutes, you'll come quietly?"

"Yes, sir," Mifune said.

"Okay. Thirty minutes. I won't be alone, either," Spirit said warningly. "This had better be legitimate."

"It's legitimate, sir. We'll be here, waiting."

Spirit sounded as if he was completely stunned by the whole conversation. "See you then." And the line went dead.

Mifune sat down heavily on the bed. He felt a sharp pain in his wrist and jumped with terror, then looked down and realized that he had been rubbing at the skin under the chain with his thumb, right over the red and angry cut.

"Mifune?"

He looked up. Angela had emerged from the bathroom and was looking at him with concern. "Yes, Angela-sama?" he asked softly.

She scurried across the room and climbed up into his lap. "Are you okay? Who were you talking to?"

Mifune lowered his head and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "Some people who are going to take very good care of you," he said.

"Really? Are they nice people?" Angela asked.

 _I think so. I hope so._ "Nice people, yes," he replied. "They like to protect the world from bad people."

"Like Mifune does!" she said, cheering up immediately.

He only nodded, words sticking in his throat.

"But Mifune," she said after a few moments. "If they're so nice, then why are you so sad?"

He swallowed, hard, trying to clear the blockage in his throat. "I'm only...worried that I won't be able to stay with you, anymore," he said, quite honestly. "They may not want me to stay."

"Well if they don't like you, then we'll leave!" she said stubbornly. "I don't think they're nice people if they don't like you, Mifune."

"No." Mifune lifted his head and looked at her firmly. "Angela-sama, this is the only place where you'll be safe. Even if I can't stay, please promise me you'll stay with them."

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and full of complete faith in him. A faith he knew was no longer warranted. "But I don't want you to go away," she said, her eyes beginning to swim with tears.

The blockage in Mifune's throat became an honest lump and the corners of his eyes burned. "I won't go unless I have to," he said softly. "Please promise me, Angela-sama. I promise that these people will take _good_ care of you, even if I have to...to go away."

He only hoped that if he were put in prison and eventually executed, that they would be kind and also smart enough to do so where Angela could never know of it. He would speak to Spirit-sama, at least - he had a child, Black Star had said. Surely he would understand that it would need to be discreet.

"I love you, Angela-sama," Mifune whispered.

Her smile was a little tremulous, but it was genuine. "I love you, Mifune!" And she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "It's okay!" she added. "Don't cry. I will ask them to let you stay with me, and then they will. If they're nice people."

"I hope you're right, Angela-sama," Mifune murmured.

More than twenty minutes later, she was still sitting in his lap, her arms tight around his neck, when a knock sounded at the door. It sounded firm rather than angry, but Mifune felt his heart begin to beat in triple time anyway. He started up, and his arms tightened around Angela.

Then he set her down and spoke to her softly. "Angela-sama, please go into the bathroom again and _please_ don't come out until I call you. Understand?"

Her cheeks were a little pale and her eyes wide, but she nodded trustingly. "Okay, Mifune," she said, her voice a whisper. And she scurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind her once more.

The knock came again as Mifune got to his feet. He drew one of his swords and walked to the door, holding it ready and peeking through the peephole. He saw two men, one with red hair, and one silver, neither of whom were at all familiar to Mifune.

But it wasn't Giriko, so he unbolted and unchained the door, then opened it a crack.

"Mifune?" the red-haired man asked. They both looked very serious. "I'm Spirit, and this is Stein."

The man's voice was familiar, and Mifune stood back slightly, pulling the door open further. His knuckles were very white on the hilt of his katana, but he lowered the point until it touched the floor. "Please enter. Thank you for coming."

Stein pushed his glasses up a little higher on his pale, stitched face. He stared intently at Mifune in a way that made him feel extremely uncomfortable as the two men filed into the room. Stein hung back, but Spirit entered brazenly and glanced around curiously, his eyes lingering on the two full cases of swords leaning against the wall, before he looked at Mifune once more.

"Where is the child?" Spirit asked quietly.

Stein made an abortive movement, as if to point, but Mifune spoke before he could complete it. "She's in the bathroom so she can't overhear our conversation," he said. From the direction of Stein's gaze he was sure he could sense her witch soul in the next room, so there was no sense in lying.

Mifune drew a breath. "Did you speak to Sid and Black Star about us?"

"Yes, I did," Spirit said. "Tsubaki-chan, also. It seems you've made a favourable impression on all of them, despite your associations."

Mifune inclined his head, but didn't dwell on that. "Then you'll take my offer?"

The two men from Shibusen exchanged glances. "I'm guessing that Arachnophobia isn't too happy about you coming to us," Spirit said. "I think we should discuss it at the school. But you do have my guarantee and Sid's that Angela will be safe. We can hammer out the details in a more secure location."

The samurai nodded. Given the way his chains were squirming, he was more than happy to go to a place filled with Giriko's enemies if there was any reasonable chance that it would be safe for Angela. "Angela-sama, please come out," he called.

But at the same moment, Stein spoke sharply to Spirit. "Senpai, I don't know if it's wise to bring this man to the school."

The sound of his voice, and the shock of recognition, nearly stopped Mifune's heart. Mifune jerked visibly and he stared at the silver-haired man, but before he could speak he felt Angela brush by him.

"Bekko!" she exclaimed, and attached herself to Stein's knee.

Stein pushed his glasses up again, his lips curling in a smirk as he met Mifune's startled gaze.

"You...you were a spy, this whole time?" Mifune asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"I'm afraid so," Stein said, and turned away deliberately, looking at Spirit. Spirit looked as startled as Mifune felt, though without nearly so much dismay in his expression. "Senpai, I understand the situation, but we cannot trust this man for a moment. The demon weapon Giriko has been torturing and brainwashing him for more than a month at least, and you can see that he still carries a part of Giriko around his neck and wrists. It's seems likely to me that he's here by Giriko's design, on Arachne's orders, whether he believes it or not."

"No!" Mifune exclaimed, taking a step closer, Stein's words all but panicking him. "No, I left him. I can't take the chains off, but I'm not brainwashed. I need your _help_. I can't keep Angela-sama safe, and I came here for that reason only."

Stein's hand was on Angela's back, holding her close against his leg. Mifune wanted to snatch her out of his grasp, to run. The situation was unravelling before his eyes.

Spirit looked doubtful, his gaze going from Mifune to Stein and back. "How much danger do you suppose it could be, though?" he asked. "We'll put him in a dungeon until we figure out if it's a trick. And at least we can keep Angela safe in the meantime, keep her from falling back into the hands of witches."

"Yes," Mifune said, grasping onto this suggestion like a lifeline. "Put me in chains if you must. I'm willing to do anything you ask."

Spirit eyed him uncertainly, and Mifune focussed on him, catching a glimpse of pity in Stein's eyes and unable to stand looking at the silver-haired man for another moment. Stein had been there for weeks, caring for Angela, watching Mifune be beaten down lower and lower.

And he'd done nothing.

But he hadn't hurt Angela, either, and what could he have done? Mifune wondered what Stein had talked to her about while Mifune was gone. He remembered now that Angela had said he was weird. And it was clear that she recognized his face.

All of this had gone on under his nose, and he hadn't even suspected it.

Had he been so self-centred? Or was Stein really that good at remaining hidden?

"All right," Spirit said finally. He turned to Stein. "We can't leave him here. If you're right, then it's still better that he be somewhere we can keep an eye on him. And he _seems_ sincere. We'll just have to figure out a way to break those chains, but until then he can stay in the dungeons."

Mifune nodded and let his sword fall to the floor. He didn't need it anymore. "I don't want to be a danger to anyone," he insisted, as Stein shrugged.

"Whatever you think best, Senpai," the silver-haired man said, and pulled a large and heavy pair of manacles out of a pocket of the labcoat he wore.

"What are those for, Bekko?" Angela asked plaintively as Stein took a step towards Mifune. Mifune struggled not to take a step _back_ or go for his weapon. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he held out his arms.

"It'll be all right, Angela-sama," he whispered.

Then suddenly there was an echoing crash as the door burst open and slammed into the wall. Giriko stood in the doorway, breathing hard, his fists clenched in anger. One leg was still raised after kicking the door in, and as he saw the tableau inside the room, it immediately sprouted chains. There was a loud roar as the chains whirred around his leg like a chainsaw.

"Just what the fuck do you assholes think you're doing? You get the fuck over here now, Mifune," he snarled.

Mifune jerked forward, his arms leading, feeling a sharp and inexorable tug on the chains around his neck and wrists. In two unwilling, dragging steps, he was past Stein, heading towards the door.

"Mifune!" Angela cried.

"Senpai we have to stop him!" Stein shouted, and Mifune felt a heavy impact on his back. Stein had collided with him, and bore him to the ground. Mifune slammed painfully into the floor, struggling reflexively against the other man's weight.

His view of Giriko was all but blocked as Spirit stepped between them, large scythe blades erupting from his arms and legs. "You're Giriko, right? I suggest you leave," Spirit said. "We're taking him, and the girl. He came to us for protection."

Stein straddled Mifune's back, trying to grab his wrists, struggling to get the manacles on. Mifune tried to go limp, tried not to fight Stein, but the chains were still pulling him forward, and he could feel them cutting into his already-abused flesh as he was dragged slowly towards the door across the ground despite Stein's weight.

"I don't care about the fuckin' girl," Giriko snarled. "Just give me Mifune! You can have the girl, but he's _mine_."

Mifune looked up at Giriko, through Spirit's legs. Giriko met his eyes and there was so much rage it made his stomach twist with terror, but Mifune saw pain there as well.

And suddenly, something clicked in his mind. He understood now, what his role had to be, the only right way that this could end.

"Stein," he said, his voice strained. "Let me go. Please."

"You don't know what you're saying," Stein said. His hand finally closed around Mifune's wrist and he struggled against the pull to bring it back towards him, towards the open manacle in his other hand. "With our help, you can be free of him, Mifune. You don't have to listen to what he wants, and Spirit-senpai can fight him off."

"No," Mifune yanked his arm free of Stein's grasp with an effort. "Please, all I came here for was to find a safe place for Angela-sama. You've been caring for her all this time when I couldn't. I just...need you to do that for me. _Please_ let me go. He won't be put off so easily."

Both Spirit and Giriko seemed to have heard Mifune's argument and had stopped threatening one another. Giriko lowered his leg to the ground, and he looked both startled and deeply satisfied. The pull on the chains ceased.

"Yeah that's right," Giriko sneered. "He knows where his place is. So you'll either have to fight both of us, or let him go."

There was a short pause, and then Stein got to his feet. He grabbed Mifune's hand and pulled him up after him, and Mifune found himself facing him from only inches away. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I could kill him."

Mifune recoiled, though he was unable to find the words or the reason why the thought horrified him so much. That alone seemed answer enough for Stein, because the other man released his hand.

"Mifune?" Angela cried, darting forward and throwing her arms around his legs. "Don't go!"

The swordsman went to one knee, though he was aware from the squirming of his chains that he had only seconds before Giriko's patience would be at a full and complete end.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "But Bekko will take care of you now, and there are a lot of children where you're going. I'm sure you'll be happy."

"I want _you_."

"I know," Mifune said. The wail was like a knife to his heart. "But I have to go. Maybe...maybe I'll see you again someday."

"Mifune," Giriko growled impatiently, and Mifune quickly gave Angela a squeeze before getting to his feet.

"I'm coming, master," he said heavily. He walked past the Deathscythe, and saw Spirit make an abortive move to stop him. Stein grabbed Spirit's arm, heedless of the sharp blades protruding from his flesh.

"Don't, Senpai. It's too late for him. At least let him make the only choice he can," Stein murmured.

Giriko grabbed Mifune by the wrist when he came within reach and hauled him after him as he headed down the hall.

"You are in so much fucking trouble I can't even tell you," Giriko growled. "How many minutes do you think you were late?"

Mifune didn't even know what time it was in Romania, and said nothing, following obediently down the hall behind his master and not resisting his grip in the least.

"Fuck, _fuck_ , this is so unbelievable. Did you really think for a second I couldn't find you, no matter where you went? You think I couldn't find a part of my own fuckin' body?" Giriko raged. "The only reason it took me so fuckin' long was because I didn't start lookin' for ya until you'd already left Romania. _Fuck_ , you are such a useless sack of _shit_. Did ya get down on your knees for them, too? That's all you're fuckin' good for, now."

"No, master," Mifune said quietly, hoping to stem the tide of rage, just a little. "I knew you'd find me. And I didn't let them touch me. I only wanted Angela to be safe."

"Yeah, _right_ ," Giriko snarled, not at all mollified as far as Mifune could see. "And what'd ya offer them in exchange, huh? If not your little whore ass, then what?"

"Information," Mifune said honestly. For some reason, he didn't feel that frightened. He was beyond fear. "But it doesn't matter, now. That man Stein is Bekko. I'm sure there's little they don't know."

Giriko stopped dead in his tracks and hauled Mifune around to face him. "You fuckin' serious?" he snarled, and jerked his head to look back the way they came as if considering whether to go back and kill the two men after all. " _Fuck_ ," he snapped, apparently deciding against it as he started off again, Mifune dragged along behind him.

There was a motorcycle right in front of the hotel, and Giriko pulled Mifune right up to it. "Get the fuck on," he snarled, straddling the machine and sliding himself forward to give him room. Mifune slid on behind and felt the chains at his wrists and throat lash themselves tight to Giriko as he wrapped his arms around the other man's strong chest.

The motor roared like Giriko's engines and Mifune closed his eyes, leaning his head against his master's back.

They rode across the desert, kicking up a great plume of sand like a rooster tail behind them, and arrived at the next town in late afternoon. "We got tickets on a flight back tomorrow," Giriko growled as he pulled up in front of a hotel next to the airport. "Ain't enough flights that'll get us to Romania, or I'd leave right now."

The chains unlatched themselves, though the moment Mifune stepped off the motorcycle they again bound him to Giriko's wrist. He didn't try to resist, made no move to flee, but Giriko held his hand tightly as if afraid he'd disappear at the first opportunity.

The long ride didn't seem to have made a dent in Giriko's rage. Mifune could hear him grinding his teeth as they rode up the elevator. He made no attempt to pacify him. There was nothing more he could think of to say, and he knew Giriko would know if he lied.

A short trip down the hall and then they were in a small hotel room, just a single bed and a television, like a million hotels across America. Giriko gave Mifune a hard shove, and he caught himself on the high bed, then sank to his knees beside it, bowing his head.

"Yeah, you fuckin' bow," Giriko growled. "How the fuck am I gonna punish you for this, huh? There ain't a punishment bad enough that won't kill ya."

That made Mifune's heart lurch and he bowed his head still lower, feeling it begin to thump with fear once more. Perhaps he hadn't been past fear after all, but only numb. "Please don't kill me, master."

"I ain't gonna kill ya," Giriko growled. He sat down heavily on the bed just behind Mifune and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back sharply. Mifune gasped at the pain, but forced his eyes open, looking up at Giriko's angry expression. "But you might wish you were dead, bein' with me," Giriko said, and thrust him back down with such force that Mifune had to catch himself with his hands on the floor.

Giriko dropped down onto the floor and grabbed Mifune's foot. "I said I wouldn't put the anklets on because I thought ya wouldn't run away," he muttered. Mifune felt new chains snake themselves around first one ankle, and then the other. "Guess I was wrong."

"I'm sorry, master," Mifune whispered. "I thought it would be easier for us, and I...I didn't want Angela to see me like this."

Giriko struck him in the side of the head, a blow so fierce that it rocked him and he saw stars. "It _ain't_ your place to decide shit like that," Giriko snarled, getting to his feet. "If ya wanted to do that, then ya should have said so. I'd probably have helped ya. So don't fuckin' _lie_ to me. I know you were hopin' they're protect ya from me."

Mifune bit his lip and said nothing. He couldn't contradict that - not truthfully. And he knew Giriko could see through him so easily there was no point in even trying.

"I'm sorry, master," he said finally, very softly.

"No you _ain't_ ," Giriko growled. "But you're gonna be. Clothes off. I'm gonna punish ya now."

This promise chilled Mifune to the bone. How many lashes had he earned by his behaviour? And Giriko didn't seem to have anything with him. Did he have luggage somewhere, where Mifune hadn't yet seen it, or did he plan to do something else?

Mifune got dizzily to his feet and quickly stripped off his clothing, feeling Giriko's eyes on him and unable to raise his head to meet his gaze. Giriko made no comment as Mifune stripped off his clothing, letting it all fall where he stood, and then crawled onto the bed and bowed low, grabbing onto the headboard.

His wrists and throat lashed themselves to the bed frame, and he felt his anklets shift as well, binding him with legs spread wide and bent, utterly open and vulnerable.

The samurai turned his head slightly, trying to watch Giriko out of the corner of his eye, trying to get some hint of what he planned.

He saw Giriko unbuckle his belt and draw it off. With mounting terror he saw him hold it by the buckle end and whip it experimentally through the air with a sharp cracking sound.

"You ready ta count?" Giriko asked.

Mifune squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "Y-yes master."

The first blow ripped a scream from his throat, but he managed somehow to gasp out, "One," in the space between it and the second.

It hurt much more than the cat, more than the crop. A solid wooden bar might not have hurt so much, as the belt whipped itself across his back and even struck his ribs or chest with a stinging lash. There was no vibrator this time, no attempt whatsoever to make it easier on Mifune, and he understood now that what had been done to him before had merely been training, merely conditioning to obey and expect pain, even welcome it.

This was punishment.

Only the weeks of practicing counting even under intense stimulation saved him this time. He counted without thought, his world consumed by the fire on his back, the throbbing welts that Giriko laid down one after the other.

After fifty Giriko threw the belt aside and there was a short, gasping, breathless moment before Mifune felt him grab his hips cruelly in his hands.

Giriko thrust forward into his body without any preparation, without lubricant, the pain of the intrusion rippling up his spine and only adding to Mifune's agony. He would have screamed again at the fresh pain, but all that came out was a pathetic, ragged mewling sound, his throat torn by the screaming he'd already done.

Mifune hung limp in his bonds, feeling blood run down his back in rivulets, as Giriko thrust hard into him over and over. Every so often a feeble shock of pleasure ran through him as Giriko struck his prostate, but these were scarcely able to make him stir given the pain he was in.

Finally he felt a rush of heat and heard a grunt of pleasure as Giriko spilled himself inside him. Then the chain released and shifted. He collapsed bonelessly to the mattress, but his wrists and ankles snapped together, binding to each other. His shoulders strained slightly at the tight bonds, his wrists bound so close together behind his back that they were touching. He couldn't move his feet apart more than half an inch, and he drew his knees up slightly towards his chest, curling up in a foetal ball.

Making soft, helpless whimpering noises, Mifune lay on his side, not even testing the bonds or trying to shift to relieve any of the pain.

Giriko was moving around, but Mifune couldn't see him, couldn't even wonder what he was doing. He heard a short sound of running water, then heard Giriko pad back out of the bathroom. With a few rough swipes of a wet towel that only set the welts afire again, Giriko cleaned up the blood and semen.

The lights shut off and Mifune felt Giriko crawl into bed behind him. "Thank me," Giriko murmured, wrapping an arm around him and tugging him close, heedless of the whimper of renewed pain as he jostled the welts.

"W-what, master?" Mifune managed, somehow.

"I said thank me! Thank me for punishing ya - showin' you how wrong you were to leave me," Giriko said belligerently. "And mean it, god damnit."

Mifune was silent for a moment. Could he thank him, and mean it?

Somehow, he could. "Thank you, master," he whispered in a voice raw with his screams. "Thank you for...for correcting me, so I know that I did wrong."

"Damn straight," Giriko muttered. "Go to sleep. It's gonna be a whole new day tomorrow."

Mifune's face was wet. He wasn't sure if he'd started crying during the torture or after, but he couldn't move his arms to wipe the tears away. He had no doubt that Giriko's words had been more of a threat than a promise.

"Yes, master," he whispered, and fell quickly into an exhausted, but disturbed sleep.

* * *

There was nothing but Giriko.

In three weeks, Mifune hadn't had a moment of liberty since leaving Death City. Giriko stayed with him nearly all the time, unless drawn away to do something where Mifune couldn't accompany him. In those times, Mifune remained chained to whatever solid piece of furniture Giriko could find, and he waited for his master to return.

The rest of the time, Giriko was there, though Mifune was usually still secured by an anklet to furniture, or to Giriko himself. Whether he assisted Giriko with his work, or was on the bed being trained or punished, or led on a chain through the castle while Giriko went about his business, Mifune's attention was focused almost exclusively on the other man. The whispers and sidelong looks meant nothing.

At times, his previous life caring for Angela and working as a bodyguard seemed so far away that it entered the realm of fantasy.

But somehow he never forgot. He held on to that moment of clarity in the hotel room, turned it over and over in his mind like a bright coin, and one day he knew it would be the right time to spend it.

It had taken a week for Giriko to fully spend his anger against Mifune, and another week before the bloody weals that had accumulated on Mifune's back to stop paining him every time he moved. He didn't tempt fate, though, and remained mostly silent unless spoken to, followed Giriko's every direction without hesitation, and never complained.

Tonight Giriko had been out on some mission for Arachne. He had left Mifune chained to the sofa, and as the hour grew late Mifune had merely stretched out on the floor to sleep. He knew better than to climb onto the couch, though the floor was hard and the carpet scratchy against his bare skin.

Giriko returned, grumpy and covered in dirt and blood, past midnight. Mifune woke when the door opened and immediately climbed back up to his knees, but Giriko took little notice of him, crossing the room and going into the bathroom. Mifune heard the shower start up and listened to the rushing sound, wondering if Giriko had been hurt. If so, it couldn't be that serious.

Fifteen minutes later, Giriko emerged from the bathroom, wearing another set of clothes. Even now, Giriko rarely undressed in Mifune's presence, unless his eyes were covered or his back was turned. Mifune had spent a lot of time over the last few weeks considering the reasons for this.

In fact, he had had almost nothing to think about _other_ than the reasons for Giriko's behaviour, and he had come to several important conclusions.

The chain running from Mifune's ankle to the leg of the sofa released and wrapped around his ankle once more. "C'mon," Giriko said roughly. "I'm too tired to train ya tonight, though, so ya get a night off."

"Thank you, master," Mifune murmured. This wasn't the first time, though such nights were rare. He rose to his feet and followed Giriko into the bedroom, climbing into bed without a word.

The chain extended from his neck and wrapped around the headboard. There was quite a bit of give, at least a foot of chain, but he wouldn't be able to get up from the bed. Not that he had any intention of doing so.

Tonight was the night. He would have to try, and if he failed then it would prove that everything he had come to believe was wrong, and there was no future for him but this.

His heart was pounding in his chest as Giriko crawled into bed behind him and pulled Mifune against him. His clothes were rough against Mifune's tender skin, still sensitive from the near-nightly abuse.

He was terribly afraid to risk it. He had fallen into a kind of routine, now, which was quite tolerable. Giriko was no longer angry with him, and it was strangely comfortable to go through his days without worry, with only one thought to focus on.

Closing his eyes, he thought of Angela, of his swords which he had dedicated his life to in his former life, of the bright coin, and he felt his heart begin to slow. He could do this. As Giriko had told him he would, he had come through the worst and come out the other side, changed but whole.

"Master, may I ask a question?" he asked softly.

Giriko started faintly. "Yeah, sure," he said. His voice was slightly wary, and Mifune understood why - Mifune had scarcely said anything but 'Yes master' and 'No master' since he had run away and been retrieved. Certainly he hadn't said anything more than that without a direct instruction.

Mifune drew a breath and let it out, steadying himself. "Do I make you happy? Like this?"

There was a short pause. "W-well, sure," Giriko said after a moment. He fingers moved into Mifune's hair and stroked him. "'Course you do. You do good, Mifune. Especially lately, you're a very, very good slave."

The approval calmed him slightly, though there was a note of uncertainty, still. Giriko was lying to him, he knew.

He could tell.

Mifune shifted and turned over in Giriko's grasp. He met the startled eyes with some difficulty, but he forced himself to look up. "You said once that you didn't want me to stop being able to think for myself, master," he said. "Aren't you unhappy that this has happened?"

Giriko looked nonplussed. He cupped Mifune's cheek, a ring on his finger cold against the slave's skin. "I did this," he said softly. "And you don't gotta worry about anything anymore but doing what I want. So don't worry about that. What I really want is for you to be with me, and anything else doesn't matter so much."

Mifune gazed up at him. Finally, finally he knew he no longer posed a threat to Giriko, and so he could hear a note of honesty in the other man's voice.

Mifune leaned up slowly and kissed Giriko, lifting his arms to encircle his neck and pressing close. Giriko made a muffled noise of surprise - they had kissed rarely, and always on Giriko's initiative. But Mifune only deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and tilting his head in invitation, but not _quite_ letting Giriko take control of it.

By the time he lifted his head once more, Giriko's arms were around him, though they held him gingerly, and there was a gobsmacked look on Giriko's face.

"Giriko," Mifune murmured, the first time in months that he had dared to use the other man's name. "How long have you been in love with me?"

"I...what?" Giriko stammered, his hands going to Mifune's shoulders as if to thrust him away. But he only held on. "W-what do you mean?"

"Don't lie to me, master," Mifune murmured gently. He shifted up onto one elbow and nuzzled at Giriko's throat, his fingers moving to the buttons of his rumpled shirt. "I know it when you do."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Giriko exclaimed, a note of panic entering his voice. "I didn't tell ya to do this!"

Mifune lifted his head, worry squeezing his heart. He didn't want to screw everything up by pushing Giriko too far. He had some idea of what pressures he was dealing with, but that didn't mean he dared step too far out of line.

"Please," he murmured, an honest and heartfelt plea. "Please let me make you happy, master."

Giriko stared at him in utter amazement, then let his head fall to the pillows. "You're fuckin' crazy," he muttered. "How far did I fuckin' screw you up?"

"I don't know," Mifune said honestly, undoing buttons and baring Giriko's chest. It was rough and scarred here and there, legacy of dozens of bar fights, accidents, and the rigors of hard living. "But I think it's more that I know you better than you ever intended."

Softly, he added. "Were you afraid that I'd see who you were and not like that person?"

Giriko started, his fingers tightening convulsively in Mifune's hair. The samurai kissed gently down Giriko's throat, worshipping every inch of skin he had scarcely ever seen.

"Why should ya?" Giriko growled.

"I like the real you better than the cruel man you show me," Mifune pointed out. He wasn't scared anymore. "Scars, and imperfections at all. The man who fed me chocolate and fruit, and who liked the idea of his golems being seen as art. The man who didn't want it to be quite so bad for me, being your slave."

"The...the cruel one is real, too," Giriko insisted, but the anger had flowed out of his voice like water. He only sounded a little choked, now.

"I know," Mifune said. "But I can handle that part of you now, too, and I don't mind so much."

He latched onto a nipple and suckled, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue. Giriko gasped and shuddered. It tasted so very good, and Mifune was sure that the chain at his throat was lengthening, whether at Giriko's conscious intention or not he didn't know. Either way, it wasn't a strain on him, and he was able to lick across Giriko's chest to the other nipple and bestow upon it similar treatment.

The soft gasps he pulled from Giriko's lips were intensely satisfying, and he shifted to straddle Giriko's leg, rocking his own erection against the rough fabric of his jeans.

"J-Jesus...Christ, Mifune," Giriko gasped. "Where the fuck did this come from? Why are you doing this?"

Mifune lifted his head and saw Giriko's eyes widen even further when their gazes met. "Because I want to, master. You can order me to stop, you know that. Do you really think that your conditioning has broken?"

He bent his head again and latched onto a nipple once more, the move accompanied by another strangled gasp from Giriko.

"You...it's fuckin' Stockholm Syndrome," Giriko growled.

Mifune paused for a moment, turned his head and rested his ear against Giriko's chest. After a moment, he felt Giriko's arms encircle him, holding him loosely like he was afraid of breaking him. As if he was no more substantial than spun sugar, or would blow away like fog at the slightest disturbance.

"I thought a lot about that," Mifune admitted. "And maybe that's part of it. I don't know how I can tell."

Giriko's arms tightened. "It's gotta be," he whispered. "It ain't real."

Mifune lifted his head and crawled upwards, looking down into Giriko's agonized expression. "All I know is that I'm not lying to you right now," he said firmly. "It feels as real as it can feel to me. If you took the chains off, I wouldn't leave you. And there's nothing I want to do more right now except to make you feel good. I don't see why you shouldn't be able to accept that."

He bent and kissed him again, softly and deeply. As Giriko gasped, he slipped his tongue deep into the other man's mouth, exploring as he had never had the chance to do. Giriko tasted of whiskey and smoke, and something else, less identifiable.

Then with a soft groan, Giriko suddenly tightened his arms around Mifune and returned the kiss with heartfelt energy. In a moment, he had shifted and rolled them, planting Mifune on his back, and he was plundering Mifune's mouth as he had never done before.

Mifune's hands moved feverishly, pulling Giriko's shirt off and running over his skin eagerly. He rocked upwards against the other man urgently, his breathing deepening to low, sharp gasps as Giriko's hands moved over him with equal energy. He had rarely felt those fingers skim over his ribs, or brush over his nipples. Giriko had never been one for foreplay, and even now there was too much excitement and urgency to do much, but Mifune didn't mind. He was equally eager, and their energy spiralled together, moving as one, properly, for the first time.

He undid Giriko's fly and slipped his hand inside, pushing his pants down as best he could with his other hand. Giriko gasped and groaned as Mifune curled his fingers around his cock and stroked, the hard member, so familiar to him, taking on a new and fresh character.

"I'm yours," Mifune whispered into his ear as Giriko bit lightly at his throat and skimmed his fingers over his hips and thighs. "But you're mine."

"Fuck, Mifune," Giriko whispered, the sound agonized even still. "This is fuckin' impossible."

"No," Mifune replied, then broke off with a soft cry as Giriko pushed a slick finger into his body. He tilted his head back, gasping, and suddenly realized that the chain had detached itself from the headboard after all. Not that it mattered. He wasn't going anywhere. Somehow he caught his breath well enough to finish. "It's not impossible. I _accept_ you, Giriko."

"You're fuckin' crazy," Giriko gasped, sliding a second finger into Mifune and scissoring them wide.

"Maybe so," Mifune moaned, tilting his head back and stroking Giriko's cock with long, deep pulls of his fingers. "You made me this way." He paused in his strokes, and struggled to sit up a little. "Take off the rest of your clothes," he demanded brazenly. "I want to see _all_ of you."

"Fuck, fuck," Giriko hissed, drawing his fingers from Mifune's body, but there was no heat in his words. Mifune crossed his legs and gazed up at Giriko as he stood up, and dropped his pants, stepping out of them and looking almost resentfully back at Mifune.

Mifune felt a smile on his lips. It felt almost foreign. When had he last smiled? "Come back," he invited and reached out, catching Giriko's hands, pulling him close and nuzzling into his stomach.

"I can't believe I'm lettin' ya get away with this shit," Giriko whispered, combing his fingers through Mifune's hair.

"Because it's what you have always really wanted," Mifune replied. "For me to want you as much as you want me."

Giriko made a noncommittal grunting sound that was as good as affirmation, and Mifune leaned back, pulling his lover back down on top of him, limbs akimbo and mouths seeking one another hungrily.

As they kissed roughly, tongues lashing, Giriko pressed close and Mifune felt his cock penetrate slowly into him. He spread his legs wide, gasping and clutching at Giriko's back, as a slow rumble of satisfaction started in Giriko's throat. In a moment, Giriko was driving into him with as much abandon as he ever had, and Mifune arched his back, clung to him, gave voice to loud cries of pleasure.

Giriko slid a hand between them, cursing and muttering incoherent approval, and stroked Mifune's cock between his rough fingers. Mifune forced his eyes open and looked up at him, saw Giriko's face convulse with the most open expression of bliss, even as he jerked and grunted, fluid flooding into Mifune's body as Giriko climaxed.

 _Yes,_ Mifune thought as he cried out once more, following Giriko into orgasm. _That's what he was afraid I would see._

Then they lay in a heap, still entwined together, gasping. Mifune wrapped his arms tightly around the other man and snuck a hand up into his spiky hair, curling his fingers in the ginger locks with a soft smile of contentment.

Giriko blew out a breath after a moment, but didn't make any move to roll away. "I hope you don't think this means I ain't gonna tie you up and spank ya, anymore," he muttered into Mifune's ear.

"I hope you don't stop doing that," Mifune admitted, turning his head and smiling faintly at the rough smirk he saw on Giriko's lips. "I've rather gotten to like it."

"Hmph, damn straight," Giriko said, more than a hint of pride in his tone.

The silence drew out for a few moments before Mifune spoke again. "There is one thing I would like to ask, though," he murmured.

"Hmm?" Giriko breathed. "Fuck, after this? Anything." He sounded so very content that Mifune wondered if there _were_ anything he wouldn't give him right now.

Mifune shifted, out from under Giriko's sprawling weight, and tucked himself tightly against his side. "I want to go," he said softly. He felt Giriko tense and quickly continued. "With you. Let's go, together."

Giriko lifted his head and gave him an incredulous look. "You did this for that?" he asked, his expression darkening.

"No!" Mifune said, his eyes widening. " _No_ , I did this because I wanted to, because I wanted to show you that it doesn't have to be this way anymore. You _know_ I wasn't lying to you."

The other man eyed him dourly for a moment, then dropped his head back down. "Fuck if I know _why_ I believe you," he muttered. "So what do you mean, 'go'?"

Mifune cinched himself against Giriko's side again. "Arachne doesn't care about you," he murmured softly. "I do. Let's go somewhere else. Shibusen, if they'll have us. Or if you can't face going directly against your former mistress, then somewhere else. I don't care where, so long as it's together."

"You don't care where, but ya don't wanna stay here," Giriko muttered darkly, but he didn't contradict his assessment of Arachne's feelings.

"You know I'm right," Mifune murmured. "Please, Giriko. This place is poison, for both of us."

Giriko grunted irritably, then heaved a great sigh and rolled onto his back, dragging Mifune against him. "Fuck," he muttered. "And you want to go to Shibusen because that's where your little princess is."

Mifune shrugged faintly. "I can't deny it," he said.

"They might fuckin' kill us as soon as look at us," Giriko said.

Mifune smiled. "They might. I'll need swords, if we're going to try it. I left all of mine behind in Death City."

"I can get ya swords," Giriko said, then fell silent for a few moments. "I'd do anythin' for ya, you know."

"Except free me," Mifune retorted, but he was still smiling. "That's good enough."

Giriko chuckled softly. "T'morrow," he promised. "I'll buy us tickets wherever you wanna go. Death City if you really wanna do the crazy thing. Fuck, we'll probably both get killed."

"I think it'll be all right," Mifune murmured, closing his eyes and feeling sleep begin to draw its veil over him already. "And neither of us will be alone, whatever happens."

Giriko's breath caught in his throat, and he gave Mifune a squeeze. "Y-yeah," he murmured, and Mifune felt his lips brush lightly over his forehead. "G'nite," he added.

"Good night, master," Mifune whispered, and soon he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, held tightly in Giriko's arms, Giriko's regular breaths tickling his ear.


End file.
